


How Did You Die

by Khoshek



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, LMAO, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, kinda character study i guess, minus the sleepy bois inc, sad teenagers need hugs, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoshek/pseuds/Khoshek
Summary: There's a fire in Tommy's chest. He's not sure when it'll burn out.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	How Did You Die

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written fanfiction in three years. i've been dragged out of my cave. what's happening. help me. please.
> 
> Poem:   
> How Did You Die  
> by Edmund Vance Cooke; 1903

_ Did you tackle that trouble that came your way _

_ With a resolute heart and cheerful? _

_ Or hide your face from the light of day _

_ With a craven soul and fearful? _

  
  
  


They hadn’t expected to lose the election. After everything they gave,  _ sacrificed _ , they had been sure their country would stand with them. Tommy could still feel the blade in his back, the arrow in his neck, the loss of having to give up his prized possessions. Yet, as Schlatt looked down at them with dark eyes, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he exiled them, they knew their country had failed them. Perhaps they should have abandoned L’Manberg back then - realized that it would bring nothing but pain and save themselves from the oncoming insanity and grief. 

Instead, plans were forged and Pogtopia was created. The brothers refused to go without a fight, refused to hand over their creation to a rotten drunkard. So they fought for supplies, weapons, armour and allies. Wilbur charmed and persuaded them, got them to listen with his honey dipped voice and his sweet smile. And Tommy would set them ablaze, leave them burning for their cause. A letter was sent, and soon even the Blood God was fighting by their side. They were strong. They were a force to be reckoned with. 

And as Wilbur fell further into his delusional obsession, Tommy stood by his side, fiery and bright and rekindling the hopes of his people.

  
  
  


_ Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, _

_ Or a trouble is what you make it, _

_ And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, _

_ But only how did you take it? _

  
  
  


Tommy watched in horror as his closest friend was torn limb from limb by a kaleidoscope of fire. The poor boy unable to escape, caged on that awful stage and staring down a crossbow as a dictator ordered his death. And Technoblade complied. 

A choked cry tore from Tommy’s throat as Wilbur dragged him back, his eyes never leaving the slaughter below them, screams of agony and panic echoed through the country as the Blood God turned his weapon on the innocent. 

Tommy remembered caring for Tubbo afterwards, treating his wounds and holding him as he cried at night. He remembered how small he felt as his friend shook in his arms, sobs wracking his small frame and tears staining the red of Tommy’s shirt. He was by no means an expert when it came to comfort, but he hoped that his arms around Tubbo’s shoulders and the whispered promises that were only between them and the dark were enough. 

He begged it was enough as they were flung into war, swords clashing and voices booming over the battlefield. The fire in his chest raged and scorched and guided his blade against his enemies. He wouldn’t fail his friend again, wouldn’t fail his brother as he fought for his country, wouldn’t fail the people he dragged into this conflict. The fire roared. 

He knew it was enough when he cheered for Tubbo, the brunet standing proud on the podium and beaming down at him. Tommy breathed in, felt the fire rush through his veins excitedly. They had won. Pride and joy overtook him as he listened to his president’s speech. Their suffering had been worth it,  _ Tubbo’s _ suffering had been worth it. In Tommy’s eyes, his friend deserved the world. So for now he let the fire warm him as he exhaled and enjoyed the peace they had given so much for.

He wondered if it would ever be enough, staring down at the crater that had been his home only seconds before. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t speak - his bones ached from the shock of the explosions. There was copper in his mouth and ash on his skin. Tommy paid it no mind, panicked eyes searching the ruins frantically for his friend, his brother. 

Tubbo was close by, shaken and eyes glassy, ugly burns covering his already damaged skin. His eyes met Tommy’s, and the taller bit back a sob. 

The fire in his chest stuttered, choked - desperately trying to avoid being snuffed out. And just as it caught itself, the anguish shifting into righteous anger that burned and screamed for vengeance, Tommy turned his eyes to his brother, to the father he hasn’t seen in years, to the bloodied sword. 

He doesn’t remember screaming and crying until his voice gave out, doesn’t remember clinging to Wilbur’s body and begging for him to stay, to _come back_ _please Wilby come back please don’t leave me please please don’t go_ \- he doesn’t remember Techno’s voice telling him to die a hero’s death as Withers rained down more destruction upon the land. The fire consumed him, devoured him in blinding rage and grief as he snarled and tore and cried and fought. And at the end he was left with a charred nation in shambles and a crack in his heart that he was unsure of how to mend.

He didn’t know how to mourn. He was never given the time to learn. 

  
  
  


_ You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that? _

_ Come up with a smiling face. _

_ It's nothing against you to fall down flat, _

_ But to lie there -- that's disgrace. _

  
  
  


He could barely feel the flame anymore, wondered if it was still there, waiting to be stoked and fed. Tommy was met with nothing but freezing cold as he looked down at the remains of Logstedshire, everything seeming so awfully small from where he was sitting on his pillar. He wondered if it was all worth it, if he had done the right thing. The fighting, the betrayals and bloodshed - had it all even meant something? Or was it just as small and meaningless as the rubble down below?

He frowned. Tommy had never been good at deciphering emotions, he never knew much besides war, it’s what he’s been taught. But as he looked down at himself and what he’s left behind, he knew that there must be more to life than this - this pain. 

Closing his eyes, he drowned out the regret and guilt of breaking his promise to Tubbo, drowned out the pain of the burns and bruises on his skin, the feeling of hands around his neck, the cold tear tracks on his cheeks, the hollow feeling of being abandoned -  _ forgotten _ . It all faded. Instead, he desperately reached for that tiny flame, begged it to come back to life as he willed himself further from the edge. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to end the life that had barely even begun, it just happened to be painful to keep going. But Tommy was used to pain. He was no stranger to hardships and ache. So for one more time - one final time, he told himself - he’d swallow it down and hide it all behind walls. 

He’d try to avoid destruction, battle, hatred - he’d try his best. Maybe then he wouldn’t be abandoned again. 

His body dropped into the ocean, and although the thought of never breaching the surface invaded his mind for a fraction of a second, he chased it away and steeled his resolve. A brittle and frail thing, easily broken, yet it would do for now. TommyInnit would not give up. And as he drew his first breath, clutching his compass tightly to his chest, the flame buzzed happily, keeping him warm and fueling his journey through the snow. 

He painted on a smile as he clashed with Technoblade. The hybrid had not been pleased to find the younger stealing from him, hidden below the floorboards. Yet, Tommy hid his fear with jokes, masked flinches with energetic bounces and sobs with laughs. He tried to let his boisterous voice fill the rooms of the house, to set fire to Techno’s cold demeanor and bring a smile to the warrior’s lips - to not let his hurt bleed through the cracks in his carefully constructed walls. Tommy tried so hard to be strong and fearless. And little by little, he found the brother he remembered. 

And as he looked to his strange ally, the man who helped and hid him, he thought that maybe they could forgive the past, and he could learn how to heal. 

  
  
  


_ The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce; _

_ Be proud of your blackened eye! _

_ It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts, _

_ It's how did you fight -- and why? _

  
  
  


He couldn’t hear the thirty people around him anymore, couldn’t hear Techno’s shouts, didn’t register the remains of the community house as he stood in the middle of the havoc. His hand was clamped over his mouth, eyes wide in shock at his own harsh words. It had sounded so foreign from his own tongue, so much like Wilbur, so much like  _ Dream _ . That’s how Tommy knew it had been a lie. 

_ Nothing _ was worth more than Tubbo. 

Tommy stared at his best friend and felt his heart break at the sight - the too big suit hanging off of the boy awkwardly, the dark bruises under his eyes, the desperation in his gaze. Had he caused this? Was he really that selfish? 

His head pounded and screamed at him, different voices all either yelling accusations or soothing with gentle support. His fingers found their way into his blond locks, tearing and begging for silence. Was he at fault? Was he that horrible? Was Dream right? 

Smaller hands covered his own, slowly easing his nails from his scalp and he looked up into dark, warm eyes. And there he found forgiveness, understanding. He found memories of a country forged in friendship and rebellion, of nights spent in each other’s arms as the world raged around them, of comfort and creation and warmth. The fire in his chest burst and he bit his tongue, swallowing a sob as he was flooded with searing heat. He gave so much for this. He would give everything he had left. 

“I’m sorry, Techno.” 

  
  
  


_ And though you be done to the death, what then? _

_ If you battled the best you could, _

_ If you played your part in the world of men, _

_ Why, the Critic will call it good. _

  
  
  


He lay in the ruins of what was once his home. Explosions thundered around him, ringing in his ears as dirt, dust and rubble were kicked up, thickening the air and painting the sky black. Fire licked at his sides. There’s blood covering him. He’s not sure if it’s his. Tubbo is gone, dead or escaped, Tommy doesn’t know. He hopes his friend made it out of the carnage, wonders if he was waiting for him somewhere. 

He pulled himself up, ignoring the wounds and splintered bones, ignoring the pit where his heart once was. 

And maybe, for just a moment, he wondered if he was too young for this. 

  
  
  


_ Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, _

_ And whether he's slow or spry, _

  
  
  


The Blood God stands on the other side of the battlefield, looking down at the beaten child. Anger and betrayal reflect in his crimson eyes. Tommy doesn’t speak, for once he has nothing to say. He doesn’t know if what he does is right, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do - to feel - in the first place. The fire in his chest now nothing more than a dim flame, flickering and dancing as the destruction roars around them - but not _ gone _ . 

Damaged fingers wrapped around the handle of his sword. He unsheathed it, and stepped forward. The man before him bared his tusks, and followed. 

They were brothers once. But the memories of laughter, of friendly fights in their father’s backyard as the sun beat down on them, of nights spent huddled together, of  _ family _ \- they were forgotten and lay buried along with the body of their brother. 

One of them would come to regret this moment. One day, they’d sit by a grave and wonder if the world would have been big enough for the both of them, if there had been something salvageable there. One day, they’d long for something lost. 

He breathed in. Breathed out. 

  
  
  


_ It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, _

_ But only.. _

  
  
  


The fire roared. 

  
  
  


_ how did you die? _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *breakdances gently*  
> what's wrong son


End file.
